The fifth time, though, was really the worst. He hadn't imagined at the time how bad it could be until now, here on Vulcan, without Spock.
They didn't celebrate Christmas on Vulcan. Of course they didn't – except in a few select human-populated areas such as around the Earth embassy. There was no such thing as snow, either, not where he was. To Jim fifty degrees centigrade, a red sky, and air so thin he could hardly breathe weren't Christmas at all.
He had been imagining spending this Christmas somewhere on Earth, preferably somewhere with snow, cosied up with Spock in front of a burning log fire, no one there but themselves. He had imagined it being perfect.
Instead, Spock had disappeared. He could hardly fathom it, had had no inkling of the apparently emotional crisis that had built up in the Vulcan that had led to this. He had just discovered him gone one morning, all of his scant belongings neatly removed, the door closed, and a flashing notification on the computer console that there was a message waiting to be read.
The message was written, not audio, and it was clipped and spare. I have taken the decision to follow Kolinahr. We shall not meet again.
He had been left reeling. Spock, gone. Every facet of his life that had been intertwined with Jim's was neatly packed up and taken away. He had grown used to Spock's presence in his mind, and now there was nothing. That was the worst of all.
It hadn't taken him long to book his passage to Vulcan, after he had looked up that word, Kolinahr, and discovered its full chilling meaning. It meant that Spock would be severed from him for life, that he would never speak to his precious Vulcan again, never share his thoughts, never touch his skin. It had felt like a death; but worse than that, a betrayal, too. Spock had chosen this. It was as if he had chosen suicide.
It was Christmas morning as he stood in an office in ShiKahr, arguing with a blank-faced Vulcan about his right to discover where Spock was. It was like arguing with a wall, except that he could have gained some satisfaction from punching a wall, whereas if he tried to punch the Vulcan he would probably find himself very quickly immobilised and in a very clean and efficient Vulcan jail cell.
He kept himself from punching the Vulcan, but only just. His hands itched with the need to lash out. It took him five hours through various channels to find that Spock had gone to Gol – indeed, that all Vulcans who undertook the Kolinahr went to Gol. It did not take much longer to discover that all Vulcans undergoing Kolinahr were incommunicado, and would never speak to former friends or family again.
After that he didn't know what to do. For a while he sat, shocked and empty, on the kerb of a Vulcan street. Then he called Spock's parents and spoke to his mother, to find her almost as shocked and lost as he was. No, she had no idea why he had come to this decision; no, she didn't know if she would ever see her son again. Yes, it was like a death.
He even went up to Gol and stood at the outer entrance, arguing with one of the Vulcans on duty there. They would not call themselves guards, but they were muscular and unyielding, and would not let him in. Short of commandeering a transporter and abducting Spock – something he would not let himself do – there was nothing left to try.
He took a shuttle to the embassy area of ShiKahr and elbowed his way into the single human bar there, where humans and aliens mingled in one of the few places one could buy alcohol on this planet. Vintage Christmas music blared from concealed speakers and holographic light displays pulsed through the forms of Christmas trees, Santa, stars, and a cherry-nosed reindeer.
Jim ordered up a scotch, and began to drink.
